The body that I am incarnated in was born in the middle of the very rainy summer of 1939.
My vehicle for life.
All seeing-all smelling --all tasting--all touching--all speaking--all hearing --all sensing --perambulating -singing-dancing-cooking--drinking --painting--******* etc etc vehicle.
Born a few months before the Second World War,with all its nonsensical religiously patriotic and democratically oligarchic and liberally fascistic evil nonsense, started.
Makes me a Rider of the Storm eh?.
Eat yer heart out Jim Morrison!.
Slid out of my mothers womb in the upper room of a brand new house.
Situated on a new street somewhere on a new development on the edge of a 3000 years old walled city in 'gods' own country'--that's what they called it.
Yorkshire!.
First smell I remember,clearly,was rain soaked Lilac and Earth mixed together.
Their scent coming hrough the open bedroom window.
AAAAH rain soaked Lilac.
Second smell was Tobacco from downstairs where my father was anxiously chain smoking.
Then came my first taste.
He,my father,dipped the tip of his little finger into his glass of celebratory Whiskey and poked it into my mouth as I lay there,wrapped in swaddling clothes.
Irresponsibility!!.
Second taste was her warm rich creamy breast milk.
And so my days and nights started.
They told me the name that I was to answer to--as if it was the whole of me.
They told me my beliefs and attitudes and desires and limitations and skills etc etc.
They told me that what I have come to know was my conditioned identity was the real me---but it isn't!..
The lied to me --in innocent ignorance.
My sister taught me to read and write by the time I was 3 years old.
I grew up knowing,deep down, that I was something else.
Not the 'Something Else' that Ornette Coleman played,on his magnificent disc,either.
War raged elsewhere throughout my childhood--mainly across the seas far away.
I watched flight after flight of four engine bombers roar overhead every day ,on their way to drop bombs on children I would never meet.
There was a busy air base 2 miles away from the house I was born in.
Once an injured bomber,coming back from a raid,crashed in flames on two houses at the top of the street I lived in.
I found war to be a hellish and frightening experience.
And along the way I discovered that I couldnt explain to 'myself' who I was, exactly,either.
That my parenters gift of identity was misleading.
I asked 'myself' who or rather what was I?.
By the time I was 3 years I was a ******* from 'Osteomylitis'--or so they told me.
I couldn't walk with massive  left hip joint pain I suffered.
I spent the years from 3 to 6 in a traction bed in a couple of hospitals.
Gobbling down Cod liver oil and Malt for the vitamins--and it worked!!!.
At 6 I learned to walk--YES!!!.
All that pain was left behind.
Thank you Gautama.
My life was suffering but as you supposedly said.
Suffering can be overcome.
And I overcame it.
And I ran and jumped across streams and climbed trees and walked for miles and miles and danced the dance of life.
I foraged for blackberries and wild mushrooms and crabapples and horseradish roots and rosehips and other fruits of nature.
I fell in love with the song of the Yellowbeak--Blackbird to you.
Became enraptured by the smell of wild Roses in the hedgerows.
And I sang and sang and sang and danced and danced and danced.
And all the while I just knew that I wasn't the body that I was incarnated in.
Even though my parenters kept on insisting that I was that body.
And I knew that I wasn't who they had told me I was either.
I knew that I wasn't the conditioned identity of the body that they insisted I was..
At 9 years I passed an exam and won a free scholarship place at a fee paying 'public' school.
My education started in earnest.
Lain and French andAlgebra and Geometry and  expectations of University.
I fell in love for my very first time at around 12 years old.
Raymond was his name.
He taught me how bisexual I was.
I swallowed litres of his body fluids.
Oh how I loved him.
Then after 2 ecstatic years he rejected me because I was a different class to him.
AAAAARGH!.
Then around 14 years the monthly seizures started.
A regular dark descent into unconsciousness.
I experienced the small death of Julius Ceasar and Leonardo Da Vinci.
Back to waking consciousness after an hours out of the body trip into the Astral realms.
Waking with total total amnesia.
With no mind or conditioned identity but both came back within one hour of waking and took over again.
Along with a helluva headache.
But I woke as me--who or whatever that was.
I wasn't who they said I was.
I was me!.
Whatever that was.
Where did I come from?
My purpose in life became to find out what I was and what the source of my existence was.
Teenage life as a rock n roller started beckoned and I embraced party life.
I won cups of silver for dancing very energetically to Bill Haley and Chuck Berry.
I discovered the other half of my bisexuality.
I found girls.
Oh girls how I love you.
and love you and love you.
I started to play trombone at 18 years.
Then trumpet and drums then into my life walked MISS SAXOPHONE and I melted!!!!.
Alto alto wobbly lines of sound poured out from the bell of my alto sax.
I was 23 and toying with buddhism and social alcoholism and playing saxophone jazz(probably badly).
26 and I got married for the first time.
I was playing Free Jazz rather amateurishly by now.
In 1967 I moved to London--became a longhaired hippy--started my own band called BrainBloodVolume--took many doses(literally 1000s) of pure LSD and Mescaline and Psyllocybin and DMT--embraced diet reform--became ordained as a buddhist monk in 1966--played with Jimi Hendrix and John Lennon and the pink Floyd--went to live in the Balearic Islands--Mallorca,Ibiza,Formentera--started to do oil paintings--had a Master Class in Concert Flute playing from Roland Kirk in the dressing room at Ronnie Scotts Jazz Club in London.Became addicted to Macrobiotic Food and Spring Water and puffing Waccy Baccy(always through a Water Pipe..



Its been seventy seven years in this incarnation that I have been wandering the face of this big ball in space seeking the answer to the eternal questions of life.

What am I and where do I come from and what is my purpose?.

And here  is the answer--!!.

I am an individual isness formed solely from a small but equal independent and autonomous portion of the isness of the universe.

Each individual isness is an eternal, small but equal, independent, autonomous,nameless, formless,genderless,classless,casteless,non physical and unconditionally  loving portion of the isness of the universe.

The isness of the universe is the whole of the nature of reality and is the sole source of all existence and is eternal,nameless,formless, genderless,beingless and autonomous and unconditionally loving and is not a 'god' or a 'goddess' or any kind of being.

I live in the joyousness of shared unconditionally loving union with the isness of the universe.

Travis scotts concert was 100% a satanic soul harvest. He sent those souls to another dimension.
Think I'm stretching? READ ALL THE WAY THROUGH.
First off. He called his event a "festival".  The definition of a festival is a feast. Did you see a large amount of food?
Or did you see a feast of souls?
His stage was the symbol for alchemy.  The egyptian ankh. The Egyptian ankh has to do with life. Because the wealthy know when you die and when you are born, you create a ripple in time and space for your soul to come and go. The best way to describe it is like a pool. Imagine you are about to jump into your local swimming pool. The water will break your entry and you will safely hit the bottom. Now. Imagine there is a person at every single part of the edge and you all jump in at the same time. Now you've got a problem. Soul harvesting is the same way. When you die your soul creates a ripple and it can safely leave. But. When you have a bunch of people dying in the same spot the spiritual realm becomes stressed in that location due to the high amounts of energy our souls resonate as they are leaving and entering the in between of this realm and other dimensions.  Therefore they have created machines that have tapped into the in between to ****** your soul. Who gets it and where it goes?  Other things are possible as well. Like the exchange of a good soul for whatevers on the other side?. Have you ever heard of cern? The large hydron collider. It's the largest machine in the world. This is NOT knew technology. The Mayan indians knew about this. The egyptians knew about this. THIS IS WITCHCRAFT AT THE HIGHEST DEGREE.
Let me break it down.
Travis Scott is a WITCH. The microphone is his wand. He is a (M.C.) (Master of ceremonies).  
With his wand he uses his voice (frequency) to help bring in the energy needed to open the portal. He brings a crowd of 50 to 70 thousand people who are generating IMMENSE amounts of energy into a low vibration. Love is the highest. Aggression is the lowest.
Then the design of his stage along with the lights become the sigil to help open the portal. Remember his stage was the symbol for alchemy?
YOU can't see the portal. You just see a fancy light show.
But those who are dying and their souls are separating from their bodies can.
The only way a living person MAY see through the portal is if they had taken an Elixir like Ayahuasca.
Do you ever wonder why all these "rappers" want to date the highest ranking Arminian witch family Kardashians?
Could it be because they are witches?

They do these kind of rituals behind closed doors all the time. What you saw was them coming out in the open.
The goal for you is to pass on and move to a higher dimension. You are drawn to the heavens because that's where you came from.
When you start gaining wealth, you start the search for immortality. Wealth is a drug that most refuse to part with.  So this is where satanism comes in. There's a theory of  reincarnation if you can create enough negative energy for yourself, you can weigh your soul back down. This is where the technology of transferring your consciousness back into another avatar has its place.
You can see why we are at a cross roads of transhumanism and luciferienism.
Some believe the elites WERE once humans and during the days of Atlantis that changed. Their technology hit a point they no longer needed human bodies. And they became the pinnacle of Transhuman. But no longer human. Something else. Maybe this is what "sanat kumara" is? A.K.A. Satan.

365Nectar #46 The High Priestess of Soul            
Fri. November 8, 2013  10:38 P.M.

Deep in the distance
dancing upon the horizon
a deeply distinctive voice
defies definition
bending genres to her will
clearly breaking boundaries
an exiled priestess wails louder than ever
silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues

Little Girl Blue
lettin' it all out
with a wild as the wind
Sinner man
just tryin' to feel good
absolutely refusing to be misunderstood
a strong-willed priestess turns tempermental tunes
into blazing beautiful harmony
putting a revolutionary spell on you
belting  emotional songs of freedom and spirit
Peace of Heart
Nectar of Truth
just in time
to do what you do...
an exiled priestess wails louder than ever
silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues.

Born to a preacher handyman
and housemaid minister
a gospel pop fusion diva
emerges from the Glory of Love
a strange volatile fruit
blossoms into young, gifted, and Black
spitting storms of spiritually smoldering Black Gold
from a silky soul
that scorches the earth
an exiled priestess wails louder than ever
silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues

Masterfully mesmerizing
Black rock
Blood
and Candlesmoke
a fiery flow of
tangy, tantalizing and titillating
under a fog of duality
genius bears two heads
vibrant and intricate
a saucy songstress swings with passion and honesty
an empowered diva
breaks down and let's it all out
just energetic expressive jazz
injected with well composed folklore
live at Ronnie Scotts
an exiled priestess wails louder than ever
silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues

From Newport to Baltimore
an exiled priestess feeds forbidden fruit
and hypnotizes the masses
with tantalizing love me or leave me alone torch songs
a powerful
Four Women
high on Lilac Wine
blush from Broadway Blues Ballads
in Baltimore
See-line woman
goes to hell
to save Little Liza Jane
and shelters in Barbados
Cotton-eyed Joe feeds
Brown Baby controversy
behind Blue Prelude

Did it move you?
Yeah...
Hell yeah.. it moved me too!

Mr. Bojangles wave bye bye to a Blackbird
in chilly winds that don't blow
while willows weep something seemingly
symbolic of soothing
to an African mailman in Central Park

and an exiled priestess wails louder than ever
silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues

The High Priestess of Soul
caged but still singing
shivering sensations
from stubborn sweetness
under sweet strings
that sharply spill and scatter strength
to the sorrowful
that  daily dine and devour
silky, soulful, and spicy
Pastel Blues.

My girlfriend
Recently
Moved in with me
So she decided
To call her friend,
Who was also
A close friend of mine,
For a couple of beers
In the now 'our' house.
Carmel Scotts
Arrived, knocked,
At around 9,
And girlfriend let him in
And his motorcycle
Sat outside near my
****** old car.
He was a skinny
Ill skin tone guy
Due to his being a
Poppy aficionado,
And he dressed
Like he belonged at
A London punk rock
Concert in the early 80s.
He came in
With his huge mohawk
Flipping God and the system off
And his boots
Knock knock knocking
On Satan's roof.
'Sup' 'Sup' 'Beer?'
'Yeah man, of course'
And we drank and drank
And the now 'our' clock's hands
Moved and struck
12.
We were quite drunk.
I put on
That record
By The Stooges
That we loved
And went to take a ****.
When I came back
Iggy was moaning about
Some Deathe Car
While on the now 'our' floor
Carmel crouched
Like a tiger
Above girlfriend's opened legs
As she too moaned
Being eaten alive by
the now 'our' friend.
They were really going at it
And didn't notice I was back.
I was mad,
Really ****** mad.
I was about
To slam him
Off girlfriend and beat him
To a pulp
When suddenly, I woke up.
I remembered
That I don't have a girlfriend,
(I never have had one)
And I don't have a punk friend
(Or any friend really).
So from mad
I turned sad
And got drunk without both of em.

THE LOOKING UP PART OF ME, FROM NIRVANA


YA SEE MY LOOKING UP WAS CAUSED BY ME, TO THINK ABOUT OTHERS, DON’T DRNK

TOO MIUCH COKE, DRINK A LITTLE BUT NOT TOO MUCH, AND IF YOU GET THE LOOKUPS

JUST TRY AND RELAX, YA SEE, WITH MY HATING GARDENING, IS BECAUSE I WAS HAVING CHILDHOOD VISIONS

WHEN I WAS WORKING, I LIKED JUMPING ON THE TREES, BUT IT WAS MY ONLY

THING I LIKED ABOUT WORKING AT NORTHSOUTH CONTRACTORS, ESPECIALLY WHEN THE LOOKUPS

STARTED IN 2005, FROM THE RISPERIDAL, MIND YOU IT REALLY FRUSTRATED ME

AND IT IS FRUSTRATING ME NOW, I AM FINDING IT HARD, TO GET THE PROBLEMS OUT OF

MY HEAD, YOU SEE, IT MIGHT BE BECAUSE I WASN’T GETTING THE JOB I WANT OUT OF IT

OR IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN, WHEN I WENT TO BED AT 9.30 PM, I HATED THAT

IT MADE ME SICK AND TIRED OF WORKING IN THE SAME JOB OVER AND OVER AGAIN

I COULD’VE STOPPED, THEY DIDN’T HOLD A GUN TO MY HEAD, BUT

REALLY I FOUND IT HARDER AND HARDER, TO RID THIS EVIL DEMON

THAT WAS MAKING ME LOOK UP, DAY IN AND DAY OUT

AT PRESENT I WAS FINDING IT REALLY DIFFICULT TO GET MY MIND TOGETHER

AND I WAS HAVING PROBLEMS, WITH TRYING TO LOOK STRAIGHT LIKE I AM DOING NOW

I FOUND IT HARD TO SEE THE MANY THINGS THAT LIFE PULLS IN FRONT OF YOU

I REMEMBER DRINKING WITH SCOTT FROM NORTHSOUTH CONTRACTORS.AND EVERY

MOUTHFUL I HAD, I FELT THE BEER WAS CLENSING MY SPIRIT, I ALSO HAD NUMEROUS BEERS

WITH STEVE AT THE WIGAN PEN, WHICH WAS WHERE THE ENGLISH BEERS WAS, AND

I REMEMBER TELLING THE BARMAN, THAT NANNA DIED, AND HE SHOWED SYMPATHY, NOW

THE WIGAN PEN IS NO MORE, I REMEMBER BUYING SOME POTATO CRISPS AND WASH THEM

DOWN WITH A NICE COLD BEER, I MADE MUM MAD AND AS I WAS GOING TO THE POOL, SHE

SQUIRTED ME WITH THE HOSE, I HATED THAT, BUT I ALSO REMEMBER EATING POTATO CHIPS

AND HAVING BEERS TO WASH THEM, DOWN AT THE CITY CLUB AS WELL, THE MEER FACT

I STOPPED DOING ALL THIS, WAS THE REASON WHY I STARTED LOOKING UP, CAUSE I WAS

TRYING TO IMPROVE MYSELF, WHICH DIDN’T WORK FOR ME, SO I WENT BACK TO WATCH

FOOTY DOWN THE CLUB, ESPECIALLY THE GRAND FINAL, TO HOPEFULLY LOSE THE GIDDY

FEELING OF LOOKING UP, MY MATE SAID I HAD A BRAIN TUMOUR, BUT EVEN IF IT WAS

I DIDN’T FEEL ANY ADNORMALITIES, WITH LOOKING UP, YA SEE, A GOOD TELLING OF A STORY

HOW EVERY TIME I WENT TO SOMEONE’S HOUSE, I TRIED TO BE A MANS KID, YA KNOW

THE COOL MENS KIDS ON THJE STREET, I WAS FUCKEN UNEDUCATED, YOU SEE I MADE

UP THE ESTABLISORY COURT TO TEASE A GOOD MATE, BUT THERE IS A LOT OF YOUR STILL

NOT A COOL KID, BRIAN, PROBABLY, ONCE I NEVER TOLD A LIE, BUT THAT GOT ME IN HOT WATER

WITH THE BIG CHEESE, AND NOWADAYS, THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH TELLING LIES

TO MAKE YOURSELF FEEL GOOD ABOUT THEMSELVES, YOU SEE I HEAR MY MATE PAT

BLUDGING ON ME, LIKE I BLUDGED ON DAD, OR LIKE DAD TRIED TO BLUDGE ON ME

I WAS HEARING VOICES, STOP BLUDGING COWARD, KEPP BLUDGING ON HIM BRIAN SURE MATE

YOUR NOT LIKE US ANYMORE DAD, YA SEE DAD ONLY SAID, YOUR LIKE ME AND MUMMY WHEN

THEY REALLY LIKED MY PARTY STYLE, AND LATELY, IT’S BECAUSE I DO POETRY SLAMS AND

PLAYS, AND TRYING TO BEAT THE VOICES THE KIDS PUT IN MY HEAD, I LIKED THOSE KIDS

BUT I WANT TO BE MY OWN PERSON, I HAD DRINKS WITH SCOTT AND STEVE, IN FACT ME AND STEVE

GASPARIC WENT TO WORK HAD A FEW BEERS AND WENT HOME TO WATCH THE FOOTY, HE WAS

NICE, CAUSE MY MEDICATION MADE ME SLEEP, AND I WOKE HIM UP, TO TELL HIM THE SCORE

I REMEMBER TEASING DAD WITH THE YOUNG DUDES, I WAS SAYING, YOUR NOT LIKE ME DAD

WHILE OTHERS SAID, HANG ON YEAH FOOL, GET ****** MATE, AND YES THEY DID SOME STUPID THINGS

BUT ALL YOUNG DUDES DO STUPID THINGS, I REMEMBER DAD COMING DOWN TO KICK THE PEOPLE

OUT OF MY HOUSE, FOR PRACTICING THEIR BANDS AT MY HOUSE, IT’S NOT CALLED FOR IN A SUBURBAN HOUSE

IT CAN WAKE TOO MANT PEOPLE UP, YA SEE DUDES, IT IS FUN, BUT THE AFTER EFFECTS, ARE NOT SO FUN

SITTING IN THE GUTTER, ALL BECAUSE YOU INVITED A FEW BANDS TO PERFORM, I THOUGHT MY PARENTS WOULD LIKE

THIS, THEY SEEMED TO LET MY BROTHER DO IT, SO WHY CAN’T I, I WANT MATES MY OWN AGE, JUST BECAUSE DAD

IS DEAD, DOESN’T MEAN I CAN’T GO ON LIVING MY LIFE, AS OPPOSED TO WAITING FOR YOUR NUMBERS TO BE UP

I WANT TO DO MANY THINGS BEFORE I DIE, I WANT TO AT LEAST GET A HOMELESS HOTEL STARTED, AT LEAST, OK

I DON’T WANT TO HEAR VOICES OF THE PAST TREATING ME LIKE A YEAH MATE YEAH KID, I WAS A MAN WHO LOVED TO

PARTY, AND SMELL THE NICE CLEANSING ALE OF BEER, I REMEMBER GOING TO SCOTTS FOR A NIGHT STOP, TO GET

AWAY FROM MY PARENTS, AND THE VOICES IN MY HEAD, SHOWED MY REALLY NICE FLOPSY BODY, WHO USED TP

SMILE AT PEOPLE WEIRDLS, AND ANOTHER THING TOO, I WAS LIKE A TEN TONNE WEAKLING ALL BECAUSE I HATED VIOLENCE

I CALLED IT A NEW VERSION OF A YOUNG DUDE, YA KNOW SITTING THERE SMILING, WITH A FEEL OF SAUSAGES AND VERY

TENDER LAMB CHOPS, YA SEE AT SCOTTS WE HAD HOT DOGS DONE BY US ADULTS, AND I REMEMBER WATCHING THE SIMPSONS

WITH THEM SAYING, HEY HOT DOG, AND MY YOUNG DUDE WAS A HOT DOG, LIKE, WITH A REAL OLD FASHIONED GIRL LIKE SMILE

I WAS SMILING AT PEOPLE, ALL BECAUSE, I WAS TRYING TO BE COOL ENOUGH TO TALK TO THEM, I COULD’VE IGNORED THEM

BUT I HAD TO FACE IT, I AM A YOUNG DUDE, AND ALL MY MISTAKES, ARE BECAUSE I WAS YOUNG, AND EXPERIMENTING

WITH A LOT OF THINGS, I REALLY LIKE THE FEEL OF STILL BEING YOUNG, BUT DUDES, LISTEN TO THIS SONG OF YOUTH

STRIP FOR ME BABE STRIP FOR YOU, STRIP FOR YOU IF YOU WANT ME TOO

STRIP FOR ME BABE STRIP FOR YOU, STRIP FOR ME, LIKE THEY WANT YOU TOO

AND ONE NIGHT IN BABGKOK, AND WHEN THEY SAID, WHAT DO YA MEAN, WE POLLUTE ONE CRAZY STINKEN TOWN

I GET MY KICKS ABOVE THE WAISTLINE

I HEAR VOICES OF PEOPLE SAYING, LET HIM BE A YOUNG DUDE BUDDY

AND THEN SAID, I AM NOT A YEAH MATE YEAH KID, TEASE HIM, TEASE HIM TEASE HIM

AND THEY MADE ME FEEL LIKE I WAS A HOOLIGAN, AND I AM NOT A HOOLIGAN

AND THEN THEM VOICES SAY TO ME, STAY UP THERE YA STINKING YEAH MATE YEAH KID

THEY SAID, STAY THERE, YA STUPID OLD FOGIE

GET IN THERE, YA STUPID KOOMARRI MAN

NEVER MUCK WITH US AGAIN, YOU STUPID LITTLE CHILDISH RAT

WE DON’T LIKE YOU ANYMORE BRIAN, CAUSE, YOUR NOT A MAN

WE WANT TO KEEP THESE LOOK UPS IN YA, YA STUPID LITTLE ****

On The Proposalls Of Certaine Ministers At The Committee For
Propagation Of The Gospell

Cromwell, our cheif of men, who through a cloud
Not of warr onely, but detractions rude,
Guided by faith & matchless Fortitude
To peace & truth thy glorious way hast plough’d,
And on the neck of crowned Fortune proud
Hast reard Gods Trophies, & his work pursu’d,
While Darwen stream with blood of Scotts imbru’d,
And Dunbarr field resounds thy praises loud,
And Worsters laureat wreath; yet much remaines
To conquer still; peace hath her victories
No less renownd then warr, new foes aries
Threatning to bind our soules with secular chaines:
Helpe us to save free Conscience from the paw
Of hireling wolves whose Gospell is their maw.

There’s a line in a movie which goes something like “pain is good, it lets you know you are still alive”. The obvious question that I can hear you asking is “So when the pain goes away you know you’re dead?”  This inevitably leads to a conversation about life after death.
Now that topic can be dangerous if you don’t walk away from the conversation quickly enough, at one of “those” parties, you know the ones; the one you would not have gone to if you knew that the person who invited you believed in the power of healing crystals. So as the bottles of wine get emptier, the part time philosophers get louder and more opinionated about everything from the existence of an afterlife to what was the “real” message behind the final episode of M.A.S.H. And yes, I have been unfortunate enough to actually hear some overfilled part time philosopher postulate a well thought out, theory on the subject at an Italian restaurant in Brisbane and unfortunately was only up to desert so could not escape without missing out on coffee and Muscat and cigars. It was a tough call though.  Ah smoking in a restaurant, those were the days, now where was I?
So given the opportunity to choose an activity which you know involves pain, i.e.: Rugby League, running a Marathon, Childbirth or  listening to drunk part time philosophers at parties, why would you knowingly throw yourself into any of these extreme sports? Well maybe because the rewards of the end result are worth the pain involved during the activity. So that cool night in that Italian restaurant I sat through Scott’s theory, not knowing at the time if the pain of the story was going to be offset by the quality of the temptations to follow desert. And so that leads me to the reason for writing this. A friend of mine recently wrote. “Apparently any given situation can look good if viewed from the right angle. Sometimes I get cramps!”
Well my friend the Muscat was good that night, the coffee rich and earthy and the cigars cheap but free. Scotts actual theory is long gone from my head but the memory of that Muscat coffee and cigars lingers for twenty years.
I am lead to believe that cramps may be a symptom or complication of pregnancy, kidney disease, thyroid disease, hypokalemia, hypomagnesaemia or hypocalcaemia (as conditions), restless-leg syndrome, varicose veins,[2] and multiple sclerosis.
So, given that if in fact it turned out that you had one of these afflictions and the cramps lead you to discovering this fact, I would say the cramps; like my terrible dinner experience, viewed from the right angle looks good! Now off to the doctor with you, I’m off to the bottleshop.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

I fall to my knees and ask God for his strength
Lord I am not perfect, I have never asked anyone else to be either
Please just help me stand up and take control of my life
Let me chase the demons of darkness away
Allow me to keep my cool and not hurt any involved in hurting me
Keep me sane and help me hold my head high
Help me Lord to remember I am a good and beautiful person
I have a giving and kind soul
I am worth more than any monetary value out there
Help me remember I am a good mother
Even through all of this I have been a great wife
Guide me through this Lord and help me pull myself together
Please take the humiliation I feel and replace it with contempt
Let me walk proudly in front of those that know what is going on
Keep me from using this Scotts Irish temper in a way that would compromise keeping my child
I pray for my self respect to return
Allow me to forgive those that are taking my heart away
Give me strength oh Lord, please I beg and pray for your guiding light and everlasting Love
In the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit

**Amen

Ruler first or ruled

in the grand
scheme
of things

the inter-e-
stop

interest
interesting times, quants of time,

quants divisible, but

non-un-en-tangle-able as opposed

at tthis moment
with tangibility being the re-
al-it-if-I-can temptation

time is permanently temporary here,
if that's okeh with you, as

peacemakers were learned to say.

Leave us let this be, see we was never taught,
we
was caught, and we learned

I can-tations
I caint-tatations yessir nossir, damnright,
I'm white trash

from way back. Hillbilly Scotts and Fisher man Sicilians.

Outlaws hang from my family tree
with some honor, omerta. doncha know.

My great granddaddy fought in the Lincoln County War,
on the side that won.

Ever last one o' my kin's sons,
I ken re
call

was left with a life t' live after
winning a war.

Then came me,
and I'as left t'live after losing war after war after war

for no reason,

those was unreasonable wars.

We was poor boys made men by God
And the Corp-
us, the embodiment of an esprit d'corp

-- flash (the real kind, where you remember an event
in time re-
lated by the merest of mere threads of
wonder)

what if, you are reading this and its like
reveilatory
re-veily girl wwwuwu
re-unveiling, luring

you

to a true-ly, like true,
(you can't tell the difference, no diff, right? D'Israeli, maybe.
said that, aside)
true
Hell. Imagine that.
You can't.

Searing hot iron truth:
no condemnation here, no more, ever on
this edge,

if
things stay balanced.
Any time, past now, is mortally pre-carrious

im' guessing that means pre-tooth rot,
but, I can check…

I 'as wrong, lookathis:
precarious (adj.)
1640s, a legal word,
"held through the favor of another,"
from Latin precarius 
"obtained by asking or praying,"
from prex (genitive precis)
"entreaty, prayer"
(from PIE root *prek- "to ask, entreat").

Notion of "dependent on the will of another" led to
extended sense "risky, dangerous, uncertain" (1680s).

"No word is more unskillfully used than this with its derivatives.
It is used for uncertain in all its senses;
but it only means uncertain, as dependent on others ..."
[Johnson]. Related: Precariously; precariousness.

From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=precarious>

tooth-rot persuasion-wise, I'as right.

Jahnsan, we assume Samuel or some other dangling
Johnson, says *******, who rides me

through the raison patch from time to time
so I can see the angel.

The messenger, the very one, told
the Prophet professed to be that lastest wit' the mostest

but un-propheside of precariousness

this very voice manifest aurally, in the
non-shadow-casting image of a pillar of light,

highbeams on a foggy night,
from far away,
then blam
headlights

the voice it said,
"Read".

Twice. Nada mas. Read. He heard it.
But he could not read, so
highly spiritual
was he --
post allakindaholyshit
to him, alone,
an angel of light, with new good news,
just in time,

write this down,
its
weird.Wait…
Wars could …

They could.
Wait. ( as we have, and may, yet.)
Wait,
I can see what the professed prophet can see.
I did read.
He could not.
Ought he to have taught? Who am
I to judge,

times and times and half a time,
that clock,
did it have an alarm?

OK; I will:

I will drone on and on about this and that
and you won't get a word in edgewise.

Droning is fun! You don't have to
check your mouth
or worry about vocabulary;
you just need to keep talking!
You can talk about sheep,
you can talk about skin lotion.
Did you know that lanolin
comes from sheep shear?
But no one yet has figured
a good use for hairballs—go figure!
I mean, the Scottish figured out
what to do with sheep's intestines;
I mean, the Scotts figured, yes,
I'm talking haggis!
But then again,
the Moonlanding was staged.
It's true!
Evidence of soundstages
for that prank can still be found
in Area 53.
But back to Hagrid —
in the Deathly Hollows
he seemed 3 cm smaller
than he did in the first HP movie,
and I'm not talking about Hewlett-Packard.
Can you imagine Carly Fiorina
as president?
I sure can't!
Did you know that you can survive
deep in the redwood forest
by licking the slime of banana slugs
for needed protein
and protect yourself from hypothermia
by plucking hundreds of fiddlehead ferns
and delving deep inside them…

hey, I think my drone batteries jus

Scotts last entry in his
diary went as follows.
-----------------------------

" Caught in blizzard
regular supplies gone
no choice but eat Oates "


Robert Falcon Scott.
Antarctic 1912.